First Kiss
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: They say first kisses are magical, full of possibilities and newfound dreams. Yet there had been something lacking. And somewhere deep down both Peter and Wendy knew it. Bookverse, movieverse, AU.


Disclaimer: _Peter Pan_, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie, and Universal Pictures, Columbia Pictures, and Revolution Studios.

* * *

First Kiss

Wendy Darling is five going on six when it happens. Still very small and young, she knows about it well enough, having sat curled up in her mother's lap listening to the stories – always endings with good triumphing over evil, living happily ever after. She is already beginning to spin wishes and dreams, innocently excited about when she will receive hers, unaware of the other implications behind it.

It is a Wednesday afternoon when it happens. She is in the middle of an outing in the park with Nana and some of the other neighborhood children and their nannies. They are playing tag, and six-year-old Jimmy catches her, tugging on her long braid. Before he takes off laughing, the boy, without permission or warning, clumsily brushes his mouth against Wendy's. Startled, frozen, only Nana's outraged barking and Jimmy's frightened yelling draw the girl back to the present and the game.

That night as she is tucked into bed, she complains about it to Mother who listens with a mixture of concern and nostalgia. Her first kiss! And she had not thought it would be like that – so heavy, awkward, undesired. Are not such things supposed to be wonderful? Though it is not apparent to her or others, the incident dampens some of Wendy's fantasies for a time.

* * *

Peter Pan is a little boy – baby teeth, ageless green eyes – when it happens. He both does and does not know of it, with hints and half-formed explanations flying to and then darting away from him. So he shrugs away the odd, recurring buzz instead of trying to catch it. He is the center of Neverland, youth, joy, and freedom, and he never permits troubles and lack of understanding to intrude on his fun.

It is the night he becomes an ally of the Indians that it happens. Wearing proudly his new eagle feather headdress, he takes in the beating drums, deep singing, the Indian maidens stomping the ground in a dance. A few times Peter catches Wendy's eye, and the two exchange wide smiles. Suddenly all his attention is taken by Tiger Lily who unexpectedly draws so close to his face that hers grows blurry and he instinctively leans back, feathers hiding his baffled expression from any observers. The princess follows, and a shock races through the magical boy when she presses her lips to his for a seemingly endless moment. Blushing as red as the fire, he crows loudly; yet it is not completely genuine.

It came unexpectedly – what was that strange new thing? …Was that the thimble which has tugged curiously at him at times since the night he plucked Wendy and her brothers away from the nursery? It was not…_bad_…and yet he cannot say he wanted it – at least from Tiger Lily. So dry, wild, firm, not what he expected. He shall have to ask Little Mother about it. However, the girl seemingly has vanished from the campfire. So…he does not concern himself, and by the end of the celebration he has forgotten why the thought of seeing Wendy persists. Yet he notes the queer note which lingers in his laugh after that night.

* * *

Several days later find Wendy strangely distant and Peter unusually ill at ease. The boys suspect their parents are fighting again. However, spats in the past saw sparks fly between the two, with their leader proudly turning up his nose and marching off, their mother sighing in disappointment and worry clouding her blue eyes. This time things are different, with a cloud of strain and uneasiness in the air. Wendy is the one to back off, gaze sliding away from Peter, akin to a skittish cat. Peter bites his fingernails, no longer crowing or reaching for his pipes, something like fear growing in his eyes as he tracks the girl's movements. The two have barely spoken since Peter rescued Tiger Lily.

Tonight after Wendy's bedtime story (no interruptions, a rare thing) the boys quickly fall asleep without trouble. If any of them were able to stay awake a little longer, they would wonder at Mother seeming to have trouble with her mending, pricking her fingers more than normal, and at Father's uncommon stillness sitting across the fire from the girl, silently watching. One moment he is there on the ground. The next he is standing by her chair, hand held out and open, an identifiable light shining in his eyes.

"Come away with me, Wendy," he requests in a quiet voice.

As always, she is unable to refuse him when he uses that tone. So she places her hand in his, and as they fly slowly through the Neverland, some of the tangled emotions in her – so hard to name, to pull apart, to know where each starts and ends – begin to uncoil in her stomach. Pure delight washes over her as she looks far up, _up_ to the fairies dancing above, fairy dust showering down on her and Peter seated on the forest floor.

The spectacle is so enthralling Wendy almost forgets about the boy beside her, unaware of him observing her reaction; she does forget he still possesses her hand and it feels like she is jarred from a lovely daydream when he rises and gently but insistently tugs her to her feet. Her confusion returns, but then she smiles shyly as Peter tentatively starts to lead her in a dance, his expression a mixture of nervousness and determination. Moving over the grass, with her hands resting in his and on his shoulder, green eyes gazing into her blue ones, fairy dust surrounding them, Wendy thinks she could fly. And here, in this magical moment – his fingertips touching her cheek, anticipation making her shiver, an undeniable force drawing them closer – Peter and Wendy kiss. Light, gentle, sweet… it is, as it should be, _perfect_.

THE END


End file.
